


Just A Bad Day

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual Connor, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Roller Coaster, Empathy, Forehead Kisses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: During a day out hunting in the frontier, Connor and Clipper get ambushed by a group of poachers.





	

“Move your legs so you are standing sideways, like this. There, good. Now pull back,” Connor whispered.

“How far?”

“Until the feathers touch your cheek, like I told you before.”

“All the way to my face?” Clipper asked, accidentally raising his voice.

“Shh!”

“Sorry!” He said in a much quieter tone before pulling back the arrow until the fletching brushed against his cheek. Clipper held it in place for a couple seconds, remembering to keep his eyes completely focused on the adult buck a few feet ahead of them. He licked his lips, breathed in, and steadied his arm. _It’s just like firing a musket… almost._

“Concentrate.”

“I’m trying my best here,” he replied, sounding a little frustrated.

“You can do it.”

The recruit didn’t answer. He was too busy making sure the tip of the arrow lined up with the animal’s neck. _Now stay just like that…_ With both eyes open, Clipper let the arrow slip out of his fingertips, feeling the bowstring quickly slap against his clothed forearm. He remained completely still for a moment then lowered the bow, disappointed.

He had shot the arrow into the buck’s shoulder blade instead of its neck. It was a decent hit, one that severely wounded the animal, but Clipper didn’t feel any sense of pride. He couldn’t. After two weeks of seemingly endless practice, he knew he should have done better. _I should definitely stick to muskets from now on._

“Well done.” His mentor said, patting Clipper’s shoulder. “You are making excellent progress.”

“You don’t need to lie, Connor…”

“I am not. You are a fast learner and have gotten far better at using a bow and arrow. All you need to do is to keep practicing.

“Can’t I just keep using my musket? You know I’m far better off shooting that thing.”

“A good assassin must have a number of different skills. It may seem tiring-”

“I-I’m not tired of practicing. It’s just that… sometimes I feel as though it’s not doing me much good.”

“It is.”

As they walked towards the buck, Clipper wanted to respond to Connor’s words of encouragement. He wanted to quietly thank him, even though his praises ended up doing little to combat Clipper’s sudden lack of self-confidence. Instead he watched intently as Connor knelt down beside the buck, one hand stroking its neck in a calming manner and the other one preparing his knife. He said a gentle _“niá:wen”_ before bringing the animal’s life to a quick, merciful end.

Clipper always thought of the assassins as his new family; though at times he found it somewhat difficult relating to anyone else; all except for Connor, due to their closeness in age. Yet despite this, Clipper still had to admit one thing – from the very beginning, he felt awed yet also intimidated by his mentor.

Connor had skills, strategic thinking, and wisdom far beyond his years. But there was a certain kindness and generosity to him; one that Clipper couldn’t find anywhere else in Massachusetts Bay. Especially not amongst the alleyways or taverns of Boston. He knew he could never go back to that sort of life and was determined not to. Connor, along with the other assassin recruits, managed to keep him on the straight and narrow path; something Clipper had been trying to do himself for god knows how long. They helped him leave behind a life of spending his days lying drunk and humiliated in pigsties and animal scat.

When the two men finished their first mission together, Clipper told Connor he wanted to fight like him someday – like a great assassin. Months passed by and that sentiment still rang true.

“Something wrong, Clipper?” Connor asked, startling him.

“Huh?”

“You suddenly went very quiet. Is there anything on your mind?”

 _Yes._ “No, no. Nothing. Just feeling spaced out, is all.” Clipper replied looking a bit flustered.

Connor stopped what he was doing and stood up, momentarily turning his attention away from the halfway skinned buck. “You did very well today. There is no need to be so hard on yourself.”

“T-that’s not what’s bothering me…”

“What is bothering you then?”

“Nothing! I’m fine.”

“Sorry. I did not mean to pry or offend.”

“Y… you don’t need to apologize…” But as Connor placed a hand on Clipper’s upper arm, the blush across the recruit’s cheeks deepened. So much so, he mentally pleaded for his mentor to finish skinning their kill or that something else would distract him. Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see how embarrassing Clipper looked.

“We interrupting something here, fellas?” A third voice spoke up out of nowhere. They both turned around and saw at least six other men walking in their direction. Each one was carrying his own musket while dangling on their belts hung various rabbit, fox, and beaver pelts along with hunting knives. Connor and Clipper instinctively grew suspicious of the group.

“Not a bad looking buck you got yourselves there,” the same man commented, leering over at the animal. Clipper was about to respond aggressively when Connor held him back.

“Do you men have permission to hunt on these lands?”

“What does it matter? Hunting bounty’s not yours to give.”

“That it is not, but there are certain rules you must abide by. The other hunters in this territory do the same and so should you.” As Connor talked, the men whispered amongst themselves; some began to silently mock what he was saying. It made Clipper’s blood boil. “We have already dealt with enough poachers like yourselves.”

“Are you the lord of this land?”

“No, but-“

“Then shut your goddamn trap, walk away, and leave the animal to us if you and your little friend don’t want anymore trouble.”

“Wait…” Another man interrupted. “Wait a minute, I know you! You’re the bastard who killed one of my best mates!” He shouted, pointing at Connor.

“He did?” 

“They assaulted a member of this community.” Connor grit his teeth as he spoke. He thought he was done with that other group of poachers when one of them ran away like a frightened child after Connor stopped him from further antagonizing Myriam.

“Right then, that settles it.” The leader announced as the five men closed in on them, brandishing their knives, axes, and pistols.

“It’ll take at least two of us to take down the big one,” one poacher said.

“I’ll get the baby-faced one. Doesn’t look like he’ll put up much of a fight,” a second one chimed in. Yet before anyone could utter another threat, Connor and Clipper were ready with their own weapons. Two against six weren’t the greatest of odds, but it was still their better option.

Connor made quick work of the two surrounding him. One received a fast tomahawk blow to the shoulder before he could fire a single shot from his musket while the other tried to deflect Connor’s retractable hidden blade, only to have it buried in his stomach. Clipper held his own against a third poacher, who turned out to be a surprisingly formidable opponent. Their blades clashed but before the man could raise his pistol, Clipper knocked it out of his hand and shoved a secondary knife into his chest, pushing it as far as it would go.

The poacher’s eyes went wide as he spat blood onto his face, but Clipper managed to keep a firm grip on the knife’s handle until he finally let the man fall dead, the blade still lodged deep in his chest. Three down, three more to go. All in all, he and Connor were doing well. That’s what Clipper thought before another man caught him off guard, knocking him to the ground.

They struggled violently for a brief moment until the poacher wrapped his fingers around Clipper’s neck, tightening his hold every time he tried to move. As it got more and more difficult to breathe properly, Clipper’s eyes went everywhere, frantically searching for a weapon. Between his desperate gasps for air, he found the pistol belonging to the first poacher he took down a short enough distance from him. All he had to do was reach for it…

At that point, Clipper could barely hear any of the curses or threats his assailant was shouting at him. Just as things were getting blurry, he grabbed the pistol and quickly aimed it at the man’s own throat, shooting off chunks of his neck. More blood splattered onto Clipper’s face and chest as the poacher dropped onto his body like a lifeless ragdoll.

Then something else happened, something Clipper hoped would never happen to him. Without any warning, he froze up. Perhaps it was the shock of being covered in the blood of two different men or maybe it was the traumatic experience of being chocked to such an extent. Whatever the reason, Clipper couldn’t bring himself to move or think no matter how much he pushed himself. He couldn’t even help Connor fight back against the remaining two poachers.

“This is fucking madness!” He heard one of them shout. “I’m not dying for this!” After that outburst, an uneasy silence filled the woods. Clipper shoved the dead poacher off his chest but still couldn’t bring himself back to reality until Connor ran up to him, his face and robes were also splattered with blood.

“Clipper, are you alright?” He said, helping him sit up. “Clipper! Can you hear me?” The sound of his voice eventually made Clipper snap out of his shocked state. It also made him realize what had just happened.

“I… I’m fine now… I’m fine…”

“Take it slowly, Clip-“

“I said I’m alright! Stop! Just… leave me be.”

Connor pulled back while Clipper got up and marched over to the closest riverbank. He noticed five of the six men lying dead on the ground; meanwhile the buck carcass was nowhere to be found. Kneeling next to the water, he began cleaning his hands and face of all the blood, shaking as he did so.

All that talk, all those promises about wanting to be a great assassin were for nothing. He had been reckless, panicked, and froze up during a close combat fight. In Clipper’s eyes, it was one mistake after another. One mistake too many.

 _I’m so stupid_ , he told himself.

Clipper continued to stare at the running water, even as he heard Connor sit down beside him. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He muttered, hanging his head in shame.

“It is fine.”

“The last one ran off with our kill, didn’t he?”

Connor nodded. “It was not worth chasing after him. If he does have any other friends, I doubt he will send them after us. Not after what happened here today,” he added with a heavy sigh.

“… I’m sorry, Connor.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have panicked like that. I don’t know what got into me, but I just… I just tasted their blood in my mouth and watched their eyes go dead and I… I couldn’t do anything. I could have done away with them quickly but I chose to be reckless and violent and… I was so stupid.”

“Fighting a man yourself is different than simply shooting them from a distance or from a rooftop. You did what you had to.”

“But I shouldn’t have frozen up like that! I’ve been doing this long enough, I…” So many thoughts were rushing through Clipper’s head, yet he couldn’t find a way to voice them. Instead, he rested his crossed arms upon his knees. “I’m not an assassin.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not fit to join the Brotherhood.”

“Yes, you are.” Connor repeated in a gentle yet firm tone. He wrapped his arm around Clipper’s shoulders in an effort to comfort him. “Sometimes instances like the one you just experienced happen without warning or explanation. I have had to deal with many of them myself… I still do. But they do not make you weak or unworthy. You are an excellent recruit and stronger than any obstacles that try to stop you. Even if today was filled with mistakes, I know that you will learn from them and do your best the next day.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I have faith in you. I know it is hard, but try to have some in yourself.”

Clipper didn’t know what to say. In the end, all he could come out with was, “it’s just been a bad day for me.” He felt pathetic for saying it.

“I know it has. I know.” Connor responded with genuine empathy as his recruit slowly rested his head near the crook of his neck. Clipper took a few deep breaths, trying to keep the oncoming tears at bay, while Connor held him close, kissing his forehead and temple. Clipper wanted him to do it again and again; it seemed to be the only thing keeping him calm at the moment.

“Should we go home?”

“Yes,” Clipper replied softly. After wiping his nose and watery eyes, he stood up alongside Connor who gave him one last tight hug. They embraced for much longer than either of them anticipated but Clipper liked it, despite how flustered his face looked. Meanwhile, Connor didn’t mind in the least.

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is still VERY SORELY lacking in the bi Connor department, so here's another bi Connor fic. Way more dramatic (and violent) than most of my other romantic fics, so any and all feedback is much appreciated <3


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